I shake my head and wave at her.
“You’re Miss Popular today, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “Sorry.”
“Whatever. We’re done.” With that parting shot, Carrie marches off. Her bedside manner leaves something to be desired. I remind myself she’s Brodie’s colleague and bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her off.
By the time I get my brace on and jump off the therapy table, Shelby has made her way across the room. “Come on,” she orders. “You can tell me all about Brodie meeting the family on our way.”
“How the heck do you know Brodie met the family?”
“I have my ways. Come on.” She slaps my leg. “Get a move on.”
I’m about done with people slapping my leg today. “Seriously. How do you know? Do you have my phone tapped or something?”
“No,” she laughs. “But it’s not a bad idea.”
Oh my god, she can’t be serious. I push my phone further down in my pocket. She can’t break into my phone, right? Didn’t the FBI have a heck of a time getting information from the iPhones of those terrorists in California?
“Chill out, freak. I’m not going to bug your phone.”
“But how did you know about Brodie coming to dinner at my grandparent’s last Friday?” I ask as I rush to follow her. An idea hits me, and I stop in the middle of the therapy room. “Please tell me you don’t have cameras in this room or something.” I stare at the corners of the room, but I don’t see anything resembling a camera. Of course, I have no clue what I’m looking for.
Shelby laughs. “You’re silly. Brodie told Carrie he was leaving early Friday to have dinner with your family. Carrie told Arthur who told Betty who told me.”
“Who are Arthur and Betty? Wait. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know.” My eyes search the therapy room as we slowly make our way to the exit. I was hoping to see Brodie today.
“Don’t bother looking for your hunka hunka burning love. He’s in the therapy pool with a patient.”
My mouth drops open. “Is there anything you don’t know about what goes on around here?” Shelby only snorts in response. Guess that’s a no. “Where are we going anyway?” She called this morning and insisted we meet up after my therapy session. When I asked her what we were doing, she got all mysterious. A mysterious Shelby scares me.
“You’ll see,” she practically sings. See? Scary.
We get into Shelby’s car, but I can’t stand not knowing where we’re going. “Come on, tell me,” I beg. “I’ll guess the entire car ride and drive you crazy.” She shrugs and then starts humming as if my bugging her has no effect. Grrr… “Are we going shopping?” No response. “For a drink?” No response. “Fine, I give up.” Lie. I’m plain out of ideas. It’s not like we can go to a park or for a walk. And options are limited here in the burbs. Museums? Nope. Art exhibits? Not hardly. “Are we going to a movie?” I look down at my therapy clothes and cringe. Although my yoga pants and tank top are fashionable, I wouldn’t be seen dead outside the gym or walking to the coffee shop in this outfit in the city.
“We’re here.” Shelby pulls into the parking lot of the municipal park.
“Um…” I stare at the walking path around the park. “I think you may be confused about how far I’ve come with my therapy.” Sure, I’m putting some weight on my leg now. I can almost stand with my body weight evenly supported by both my legs. But walking? That’s still a distant dream.
“Oh, we’re not going for a walk. We’re going swimming.”
My heart stops. No way no how am I going swimming. Nope. Nope. Nope. I don’t plan on ever swimming again. Unless I somehow win the lottery and install a pool in my own home, because I will never be seen in public in a swimming suit again. Heck, I don’t even know where my swimming suit is. Why would I be carrying one of those around? The thought cheers me. “I can’t go swimming. I don’t have a suit.”
“Sure, you do. Your grandma gave me one.”
“Grandma is such a traitor!” It’s bad enough she’s constantly setting me up on blind dates. Now, this. And what swimsuit would she have given Shelby anyway? I certainly didn’t bring any swimming gear with me when I moved in after my accident. Oh god, please tell me she didn’t give her a suit from my teenage years when I used to visit my grandparents. Wait. What do I care? “There’s no way I’m going to swim.”
Shelby sobers. “Yes, you are. The longer it takes you to start showing your scars, the more difficult it will be.”
My scars. She hit the nail on the head there. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “I’m not ready.”
She grabs my hands and squeezes. “Here’s the thing. You are never going to be ready.”
I decide it’s time to explain some things to my new friend. “You don’t understand.” She squeezes my hand again. This time only using her prosthetic limb. “No.” I shake her hand off. “That’s not what I mean.” I take another deep breath through my nose and start talking, “It’s not only about being scarred and walking with a limp for the rest of my life. I mean, that’s horrible in and of itself. It’s about my life. I don’t know if I can go back to my life like this. How am I going to walk around venues for hours? And that’s not the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part?”
“My job. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. The holidays I’ve missed with family. The relationships destroyed because I didn’t have the time or energy to spare. And now it’s ruined.”
“Ruined how?”
“Oh god.” I bury my face in my hands. “It sounds shallow. I’m embarrassed.” Shelby waits me out. “Everyone in my line of work is thin and beautiful.” I lift my head and point to my face. “No one will hire me if I’m scarred.”
“Sorry, but I call bullshit. You can’t tell me every single person who works at your firm is beautiful and flawless. Nope. I’m not buying it. Get your ass in gear.” She doesn’t wait for my response but jumps out of the car and grabs a bag from the back seat. “You have thirty seconds to get out of the car before I call your grandma.”
I growl before opening the door and dragging myself out of the car. “Exactly when did you and my grandma become buddies?” Normally, I’d think it’s cool my friend and my grandma are getting along. Now? Completely uncool and potentially dangerous.
Shelby rushes me through the building and to the changing rooms. I take the suit she throws at me and go hide in the handicapped stall in the bathroom. I’ve never been a prude who couldn’t change in front of other women before. In fact, I may have been one of those mean girls who made fun of prudes. But things change. Now I’m the one grunting and groaning while I try not to fall into the toilet as I struggle to put on my swimsuit. At least the suit Grandma gave Shelby fits. I never thought I’d be happy I went through a chubby period in my teenage years.
I crutch my way out of the stall to find Shelby waiting on me. She looks down at my leg and huffs. “The brace needs to go before you get in the water.”
I’m wearing the smallest sleeve brace I have. You can see some scar tissue peeking outside the edges of the brace, but the biggest scars remain covered. My hands tighten to the point of pain where they grip the handles of my crutches. “This is as far as I’m willing to go. Take it or leave it.”
Shelby crosses her arms. “I’ll agree – if you take the bandage off your face.”
“No way. No how.” I swivel and start hopping towards the handicapped stall. It took a shit ton of courage to walk out of there with this suit on and only a small sleeve on my leg. I am not going any further.
“Fine. Fine.” Shelby grabs my arm and stops me. “I’ll take what I can get. Come on. You’ll see. No one cares about your scars except you.”
Snort. Yeah, right. I haven’t been called the ugly girl for nothing.
Shelby helps me with my crutches and entering the pool. And then the strangest thing happens. All the old people want to talk about is the injuries they’ve sustained and what they’ve endured. Apparently
, my injury is the perfect conversation starter for discussing their physical problems. I never knew sciatica was such a big deal.
“I told you so,” Shelby says as we’re leaving the pool.
I ignore her. No way I’m agreeing with her out loud. No reason to give her an excuse to gloat. And gloat she will. But a bunch of old people swimming in a community pool is not exactly the target group I’m worried about judging my scars.
Chapter 18
A lady knows when to let things go.
I squirm in my seat in the back of the taxi and try to pull my skirt down further. Grandma’s cooking and sitting around on my ass all day every day has not been conducive to fitting into my clothes. Physical therapy may be torture, but it apparently doesn’t burn enough calories to make up for homemade cooking, darn it. I had to dig through my limited wardrobe to find anything remotely work appropriate. Unfortunately, this skirt is a bit short and shows too much leg. Although I’m wearing a sleeve brace, you can still see some ruined leg. Never thought I’d complain about a skirt showing too much leg, but there you have it.
Deep breaths. I can do this. I have to do this. My boss called and scheduled a meeting. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Up to this point, he’s been cool about saving my job for when I’m able to return to work. I’m afraid his patience is up.
Jackson is waiting when the taxi pulls up to my office building. “Do you know what’s going on? Why did Devon schedule this meeting?”
“Well, hello to you too.” He leans over and kisses my cheek in greeting. I narrow my eyes at him. Why is he kissing me? We don’t kiss in greeting. “Devon is waiting for you.” Worries about my assistant’s out of character behavior are wiped from my mind.
I check my watch, but I’m not late. “Waiting for me?” This can’t be good.
“It’ll be fine.” He grabs my bag and hurries into the building. Luckily, I’ve finally mastered the art of walking around on crutches – score one for PT! – and manage to keep up.
I smile at everyone in the reception area before we hit the elevators. As soon as the doors close, I start rapid-firing questions at Jackson. “What’s going on? Why did Devon insist I come in for a meeting? Is something wrong? Does he want me to come back to work?”
“I think it has something to do with Just You.”
Crap. I knew it! I shouldn’t have gone to the launch of their new product line. I should have waited until I could walk before showing my face, but after my friends started bragging about how awesome Tara’s party was going to be, no one and nothing could have stopped me from attending the opening.
Jackson grabs my hand and squeezes. “It’ll be fine. Besides, if it’s not, you can finally start your own marketing firm.”
I glare at him, but the doors open before I can give him a piece of my mind. I take my bag from him and make my way to Devon’s corner office. Except for the bigwigs like Devon, the firm has an open floor plan. I have to pass every single person working there while making my way to Devon’s office. There are a few smiles and nods in greeting, but there’s also a whole lot of looking away to avoid my gaze. What the heck? I didn’t think I had any enemies in the office. I glance over to see Tara sitting at my old workstation. She smiles and waves. Obviously, she thinks she’s won. What? I’m not sure.
Devon’s secretary ushers me into his office. He’s standing at the window looking outside when I enter. He must hear me enter as he turns around before I have a chance to speak. “Hey, Frankie. Have a seat.” He motions to the cozy chairs in the corner.
I slowly lower myself into a chair, praying the seams of my skirt are strong enough and move going clothes shopping to the top of my to-do list. I don’t bother with chit chat. “What’s going on?”
Devon chuckles. “I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to get straight to it. I did call you out of the blue after all.”
“Out of the blue and in a rush.” He called last night at dinner and insisted I come in this morning. “Where’s the fire?”
He clears his throat and leans forward. “Well, you know Just You had the launch of their new product line the Sunday before last?” I nod. Of course, I know. I was there. But Devon doesn’t know I came out of hiding to spy on my nemesis. “The event went very well. I’m happy with Tara’s work.” I clench my teeth and force myself to keep my mouth firmly shut. Badmouthing Tara to my boss may make me feel better in the short term, but in the long term, it’s bound to blow up in my face. Besides, I would never – no matter what – bad mouth a female employee to a male employer. I don’t break the sister code – ever.
He sighs and leans back. “But we have a problem.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m glad you said that.” He reaches forward and grabs a file I hadn’t noticed on the table. He hands it to me. “Have a look,” he says when I don’t immediately open it.
I don’t know what I expected to see when I opened the file, but a consultancy agreement was most definitely not it. “What’s this?”
“I know you’re not ready to come back to work full-time, but I need you. Mr. Ward insists on working exclusively with you on a new product line they’re developing.”
My mouth drops open. Mr. Ward had said he was looking forward to my return at the firm, but I thought he was just being supportive. I didn’t expect him to contact my boss. “Why a consulting agreement?”
Devon nods to my crutches. “Obviously, you’re not ready to come back full-time yet, but I can’t let this lead with Just You get cold. I need you to act as point for the account.”
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I came here this morning expecting to get fired, or – at the very least – be given an ultimatum as to when I had to return to work. I didn’t expect this. “Would I need to come into the office?”
“I imagine coming in once a week to consult with your team would be sufficient.”
I could probably manage that. I wiggle in my seat. After I buy a new wardrobe. Or go on a diet. As if Grandma would ever let me diet in her house. New wardrobe it is.
Devon stands. “Have a look at the contract and get back to me by next week. I can hold Mr. Ward off until then.”
I shove the file into my bag and get to my feet. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch,” I say before hobbling out of his office. I’m surprised Jackson isn’t waiting for me. I look around but don’t see him anywhere. Oh well. I’ll call him with the news later. I start towards the elevators. I’m nearly there when Tara approaches. Yippie.
“Well, look at who we have here. If it isn’t little miss deformed herself.”
I ignore her and continue on my way, but she grabs my bag and forces me to stop. Score two for physical therapy. If she’d pulled me off balance even a week ago, I would have fallen flat on my face. “Don’t think you can come back here and steal my job.”
I scoff. “Your job? I think you’re confused. You’re the one who was hired to fill in for me. Not the other way around.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and looks me up and down. “Yeah, well, maybe I started as a temp, but it’s my job now.”
I’m not above needling her. “Yeah, sure, that’s why Devon called me in to start working again.”
Her eyes flare. “No, no, no,” she sputters. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”
I don’t bother responding. Why would I lie? I hitch my bag on my shoulder and resume walking to the elevator.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Tara shouts at my back.
I want to keep walking. I really do, but I can’t have her shouting my business in the office. I swivel around to face her. Crap. Everyone is now staring at the two of us, even Devon has emerged from his office.
“Look at you,” she sneers. “You can’t possibly think you can return to this job full-time. Not looking like that.” She points to the bandage at my face.
From the corner of my eye, I see Devon’s head drop before he returns to his office. Damn. Guess I was right. I can’t do this job
looking like I do. Before I have the chance to get my pity party started, Jackson arrives.
“You bitch. Frankie is more beautiful than you will ever be – with or without some tiny scar on her face.” Tara opens her mouth to argue, but Jackson doesn’t give her the chance. “And she can run circles around you in this job. Everyone knows you’re making the team do all the work while you take three-martini lunches.” He turns his back on her. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
I allow Jackson to lead me out of the office, but I keep my eyes focused on the floor. No way can I look anyone in the eye after what Tara said. Obviously, Devon agrees with her. He would never have allowed her to talk to me like that otherwise.
“Don’t listen to the bitch.”
I don’t bother responding to him. He can tell me everything’s fine until the cows come home, but everything is most definitely not fine.
Chapter 19
A lady should always have an attitude of gratitude.
Hey, beautiful. Want to go see a movie tonight?
Ugh. No. I want to drown myself in ice cream and tequila. Not tonight.
Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll let you pick the movie.
Not happening.
Too late. I’m here.
Ding dong. Damn.
“What are you doing here?” I demand of Brodie when I open the front door.
He smiles and shrugs. “Cheering you up by taking you out on a date.”
“How did you know I needed cheering up?”
His eyes snag on something behind me before he blushes and drops his head to stare at his shoes. I twirl around and – yep! – there’s my grandmother standing at the end of the hallway. She gives me a thumbs-up before ducking her head back into the living room. She’s such a meddler! How did she even get Brodie’s phone number?
“Look, it’s sweet you came here to cheer me up, but I don’t feel like going out.”
“Just go, Frankie girl,” Grandpa shouts from the living room. Is there no privacy in this house? “Lord knows you could do with some cheering up.” I may have been a little grumpy since I came back home from the city this morning, but it can’t have been too bad. “Finally, I can have control of the remote in my own home.”
About Face (Love in the Suburbs Book 1) Page 9
